Bianca Sends a Warning

By Desdmona

This story contains sexually explicit scenes.

A Few Good Reasons to Share Sexual Fantasies

Hi! My name is Bianca. I’m sorry to send you this chain letter, but I didn’t want what happened to me to happen to you. Three months ago I received this letter for the first time. I thought what you are probably thinking now – it’s a hoax. So I ignored it. But I found out the hard way – this is for REAL!

Within a month of discarding the letter, I found it harder and harder to achieve an orgasm. I became sexually frustrated. By the second month, I quit having orgasms all together. I was sexually impotent. And after the third month, I was no longer aroused by any means. And believe me, I tried. I was completely frigid!

Luckily, someone else had kept the chain alive and eventually the letter made its way back to me. I immediately began forwarding it to everyone I knew. By the end of the day, I had masturbated six times in my cubicle at work. And now I fuck at least twice a day.

So please, do what the letter says. You may not be lucky enough to get a second chance.

This chain mail has been alive since 1886, when females decided to claim their sexuality for themselves. To keep it going, you must add your sexual fantasy to the tenth spot and delete the first one off the list. Then send it to as many females as you can. Within three weeks, you’ll be acting out that fantasy. The more people you send it to, the more fantasies you will experience. Chicks in Chain Mail must survive. Your sexual health depends on it.

1) Miranda, 33 Travel Agent

I want to go somewhere hot: an island with palm trees and slushy alcoholic beverages. There, I walk away from the crowded resort to a quiet stretch of beach. I feel so daring in my sexy little bikini – I would never dare to wear such a thing back home!

I lie down on my towel and feel the hot sun on my skin. Looking around, I make sure I am alone. My heart pounds as I consider the possibility. I could be nude. There is no one for hundreds of yards.

My fingers trembling, I pull off my top and skim down my panties. I quickly lie down on my belly, naked. The sun and heat feels wonderful on my skin. I pretend to be nonchalant, but in reality, my body is on fire.

And then I hear splashing noises from the calm sea, and I feel a rush in my heart. Someone is coming! Someone will see me naked! I am frozen with terror and excitement. It’s too late to cover up. All I can do is hope they will see me and walk quietly by.

I sense someone approaching, getting very close, and I crane my head around. He stands above me. “I didn’t know this was a nude beach,” he says. He is a tall, fit man with a bright smile. “Do you mind if I join you?”

I feel trapped, I can’t say no. My eyes are riveted on him as he lets his trunks drop to the sand. His penis is big and very, very hard. He lies down next to me, but I can’t keep my eyes off his penis. “Do you mind if I touch it?” I ask him.

I am soon stroking its length, and he moans. I push him over on his back and climb on top of him. His penis prods between my thighs, and I lower myself down, feeling it fill me. The smell of coconut, sweat, cunt, and sun-baked skin surrounds us.

In no time at all I am screaming with an orgasm that wracks my whole body, and I feel the gush of his cum inside me.

When we can finally move again, we struggle to our feet and run naked into the ocean and wash up. With the salty water stinging our skin, we return to our private little spot, rub suntan lotion all over each other’s nude bodies, and we drift off into a hot, lazy sleep.

2) Cassandra, 38 Housewife.

From the very first time I saw Steven Spielberg, I’ve fantasized about having oral sex with him. I imagine myself spread eagle on the bed – my legs as far apart as they will go, my ass resting on a pillow. Steven slowly comes into view. He doesn’t say a word – he just dives into my sopping pussy. He rubs his chin up and down my slit, raking his partially gray beard along my tender flesh. I beg him for more, but he takes his time, rubbing slowly, until his beard is completely saturated, and my labia are swollen and burning. Right when I think I can’t take it anymore, he wraps his mouth around my clitoris and slurps it between his lips. I grab the back of his head and cram his face between my folds. I feel his nose against my cleft, his hairy chin scraping at my anus and his teeth nibbling everywhere in between. I erupt into orgasm. He lingers there until the last aftershock passes, and then he sits up, his beard glistening with my dew, and lisps, “I’ve got an idea for a sequel!”

3) Helen, 34 Registered Nurse

He’s an artist. A sketch artist. He’s asked me to pose nude for him. I can hardly believe he has asked me. It scares me to think about being exposed for such a long period of time, but I still agree to do it. I want to do it.

I enter wearing a robe and nothing else. His easel is placed several feet away from a chair covered in velvet. He directs me to the chair. He slips the robe off my shoulders like a lover. I’m aroused all the more because of his deliberate attempts not to touch my bare skin. He has me sit sideways in the chair – one hand resting on the back of the chair, one leg dangling over the arm of the chair. He tells me to lean back, and my hair falls away from my back. He walks to his easel and stares at me for long minutes before placing his charcoal to paper.

He’s naked from the waist up. The bunching of muscle in his forearm mesmerizes me as he makes long, flourishing strokes. My nipples harden with excitement. He doesn’t seem to notice. He works furiously, eyes focused on me, eyes focused on his canvas. The air begins to sizzle with the sound of charcoal scraping paper. The time passes all too quickly.

He comes to me with blackened fingertips and helps me into my robe. There will be another sitting. And another.

It isn’t until I see the finished product, weeks later, hanging in the gallery that I understand how beautiful he thinks I am, or how beautiful he makes me feel.

4) Ursula, 28 Mother

My baby is nine months old. I quit nursing two weeks ago, but my milk hasn’t completely dried up. My tits are still round and full and sensitive. I’ve been in the habit of lathering my breasts completely as a hygienic measure, but lately I’ve been lingering over the act. I’m still amazed at their firmness. When I’m in the shower and my body is heated from the hot water, it’s almost as if my breasts swell right before my eyes. Just once I want to step from the shower, the steam swirling around, and have my husband be there to greet me. I want him to kneel in front of me and nuzzle his face in my cleavage. I want him to kiss all around my tit flesh. I want him to open his mouth, clamp down on my nipple, and suck. I want him to suck in a frenzy. I want my nipples to be branded with his teeth marks. I want him to feed on me. I want to be the source of all his nourishment. I want his desire for my tits and my milk to consume him.

5) Julia, 20 Student

My best friend, Antonio, is gay. I have fantasies about watching Antonio with his male lover, Henry. Antonio has olive skin and a hairless chest. He has very defined muscles and thick fingers. Henry is only slightly smaller and blond. They invite me to dinner. We eat and laugh like always, only when dinner is finished and we are cleaning up the dishes, Henry is bent over the sink, and Antonio sneaks up behind him, pretending to reach for the dishrag. There is a moment of playfulness. Henry wiggles his butt back against Antonio. Antonio looks at me, raising his eyebrows in question. I shrug my shoulders and then nod.

Antonio slips his hands into the elastic waistband in the front of Henry’s sweatpants. Henry quickly looks at me. I smile and give another encouraging nod, and Henry closes his eyes. Antonio pushes the front of Henry’s pants down, and Henry’s penis pops out. It is semi-hard. I watch as Antonio grabs onto the shaft of Henry’s penis and roughly jerks, in an up-and-down motion. It immediately becomes rock hard between Antonio’s thick fingers.

Antonio releases Henry’s penis, slides Henry’s sweatpants down around his knees, and then reaches for the dishrag. Without wringing it dry, Antonio sloshes it against Henry’s naked ass, and water sluices down Henry’s crack. Henry moans and then slumps forward against the kitchen sink. Antonio unzips his jeans and releases his slender but very long penis. He dips the rag into the dishwater and then bathes his full erection with the saturated rag.

Antonio puts his hands on the fleshy part of Henry’s ass and then spreads his cheeks apart. I hold my breath in anticipation as Antonio steps closer to Henry. He doesn’t use his hands to guide his penis; he just jabs at Henry’s opening. Antonio’s penis head slips easily through the puckered entrance. Antonio lifts his hands from Henry’s ass and reaches around Henry’s waist to once again grab hold of Henry’s cock. Henry pushes back against Antonio. I watch as Antonio’s penis disappears inside of Henry. Antonio begins to hump and rub at the same time. Both men are grunting. Within seconds, Antonio howls and gives one last hard shove. Henry’s penis thickens, and then milky strings of semen spurt straight out and hit the sink.

I don’t watch as Antonio slides out of Henry. I can’t watch. I need to find the bathroom and relieve the need that watching them has caused in me.

6) Audrey, 29 Bank teller

I have a thing for clowns. I’ll follow a clown anywhere. When I was seven, Barnum and Bailey came to my hometown in Indiana. I got to sit in the front row. One of the clowns kept coming over to me. He gave me a balloon. He threw a bucket of confetti on me. He let me toot his horn. Midway through the performance, he picked me up and carried me on his shoulders all around the Big Top. I can still remember the feel of gloved hands squeezing my thighs and his wiry, red wig tickling the outside of my panties when my dress hiked up. At the end of the show, he brought me back to my seat and gave me the squirting flower that was on his lapel. I kept it. It’s been my favorite masturbation toy all my life. And now, nothing turns me on more than an exaggerated smile, the smell of face paint, or the honk of a good horn.

7) Viola, 44 Court Stenographer

The elevator creaks. The compartment goes black. We jerk to a stop. There are five of us. Two women. Three men. One woman gasps aloud, “What’s happening?” No one responds. The answer is obvious.

Immediately the air stagnates. The smell of fear fills my nostrils. My heart pounds. My breath smacks into close walls. I want to scream.

A firm hand circles my wrist. I gradually feel calmer. The hand moves up my arm. I let it. A whisper, “I want to fuck you.” Hot breath seeps over my skin. I smell mint. I turn to the face and grapple in the dark. We meet lip to lip. A zipper sounds. Hosiery rips.

A harrumph from the other woman, “What are you doing over there?” Silence.

I wrap a leg around his waist. He’s suddenly inside of me. My vagina hugging his shaft. We mate like hungry lovers. Quick. Wet. Hot. The stagnate air turns to musk. And then it’s over. A muffled, “Thank you.” Our bodies separate. Time elapses. The elevator jerks. The lights flicker. The doors open. Three men. I have no idea which one. I don’t care to know.

8) Mariana, 42 Executive Secretary

I walk into the room. My boss is sitting in his chair. He doesn’t expect me. He glances at my full-length raincoat and spiked heels. He starts to speak, but I raise my hand, “No words right now,” I tell him.

I unloosen the belt on my coat and let it fall open, revealing my black bustier, garters, and hose. The garments fit snugly with my full breasts rising above the silk. He smiles as the coat falls from my shoulders, landing in a puddle at my feet.

I grab his tie and slowly, without losing eye contact, loosen it, and then slip it from around his neck. I move to the buttons on his shirt, undoing the first one. I bend, touch his exposed skin, first with my lips, then with my tongue, swirling around. I move to the next button and every button after that, leaving a line of saliva down his chest. When I get to the last button, I slip the shirt off his shoulders. But instead of taking it off, I whip the shirttail around the back of his chair, knotting the hem and securing his arms behind him.

I make eye contact before moving to unclasp his leather belt. His eyes widen and sparkle. I allow my hand to rest on his bulge as I unzip his pants.

“Ahh, just as I had thought,” I say. “Ready and waiting.” I briefly cup his arousal before removing the last of his clothing. I step back, eye him hungrily, and then fall to my knees. I wrap my hand around the lengthening shaft. A pearl of precum escapes. Using my finger, I swoop it up, and being assured he’s watching me, I slip a semen-dipped finger into my mouth. He growls and I feel empowered.

I lean closer to his erection, lightly blow, and watch his cock twitch. I kiss the tip and then tongue the meatus. I open my mouth further and suck in the bulbous head. Sucking and sucking, I inch more and more cock into my mouth. My saliva lubricates his pole. I can feel the cadence of his heartbeat through the thin membrane of skin. He continues to stiffen. I suck in more cock until my mouth meets my hand that encircles his shaft, and then I release him. Only to do it again. And again. His hips rise. His penis swells and teases my throat. I know he’s about to explode. I suddenly stop.

“Now you can talk. Tell me what you want.” His eyes are dark. He shakes his head, gulping for air, and mumbles, “Please.”

I bend down again, wrapping my mouth around his cock. This time I lunge deeply, taking in his full length. I wait until the head of his cock reaches my throat and then I swallow, forcing him deeper. I swallow again and again, massaging his cock. His penis jerks and expands to its full size. I cup his balls, fondling each one. They tighten seconds before shoving his semen up and out. Spasm after spasm forces warm, thick liquid down my throat. I swallow it all until the last weakened spasm is completed. He continues to fight for air with a heavy rise and fall of his chest.

When his breathing returns to normal, I stand, and huskily ask, “Am I needed for anything else, right now?”

9) Eleanor, 40 Police Officer

My favorite fantasy involves handcuffs, leg shackles, my bulletproof vest, my gun, and one of my collars from the day. Instead of taking him to the precinct and booking him, I take him to a private setting. I make him strip, handcuff him to the bed, and then secure his legs in the shackles. I leave him for several hours.

When I finally walk into the room, I’m dressed in my bulletproof vest, three-inch heels and nothing else. I run the barrel of my gun along his naked flesh. He doesn’t know it’s unloaded, and he pleads with me to stop.

“Please, Ma’am, please don’t hurt me.”

“Shut up, thug!” I say as I point my gun at his crotch.

He whimpers. I step up onto the mattress and then onto his chest, digging a stiletto into his nipple. He howls in pain, but his prick springs up. I dig my heel a little deeper and open my legs to give him a clear view of my shaved pussy.

“Wha-what are you going to do?” he stutters.

“I told you to be quiet, thug!”

I turn around and squat, straddling his chest. I rub my pussy against his enflamed nipples. Using the barrel of the gun again, I massage his extending cock.

Every time I touch his shaft with the gun, his cock lurches. I get tired of waiting. I move down over his crotch and shove the tip of my gun into his testicles. His cock juts straight up. I lower my pussy onto his rigid shaft. He fills me adequately, and I ride him hard. I press the gun even harder into his balls.

“Ohh, god!” His hands rattle the handcuffs, trying to free himself. The leg shackles hold him in place.

I slide the gun from his testicles up to my clitoris. The tip is steely hard, but warm. The thug thrusts his hips up, getting into a rhythm. He explodes inside of me and his thick, white come seeps out. I swirl the tip of the gun in his gooey come and slide it over my clit. I tense in a thunderous climax.